Masquerade
by Faceless Pyrus
Summary: Memoirs of a mesmer who lived through the searing and his adventures in the Flameseeker Prophecies with his companions. Chapter 3 now up!
1. Preface

**_FP_: _Hey everyone, Faceless Pyrus here. Just for the sake legal issues, I do not own Guild Wars in any right. This story mixes NPCs from Guild Wars (i.e. Lady Althea), my actual characters that I play with (i.e. Pyrus The Faceless), and characters that_ _just come from my mind (i.e. Xavier, Pukpuk, etc.)._**

_**Other than that, there are just a few other things to go over. The story itself is pretty straightforward, narrated by Pyrus The Faceless, therefore in the first person. The Preface is narrated by Xavier, a Krytan historian, and will be italicized for distinction. Whether or not he pops up later to narrate other portions of his own story or insights of his own is yet to be determined, but will still be distinguished by italics.**_

_**So, without further ado, please read, please review, please enjoy.**_

* * *

**Preface:**

_My name is Xavier. I'm a monk who specializes in the arts of protection. Well, special_ized_ rather, as my fighting days are long over. So, now that I'm past my prime as a man of battle, I spend my time employed by the Krytan Academy of Tyrian History. _

_Recently, I stumbled upon a document of great importance, and my colleagues were duly impressed._

_It's a document, yes, but more specifically a memoir. We all know of the Flameseeker Prophecies, an amazing and astounding landmark in Tyrian history. Of course, the fabled dragon Glint had been in wait for this to occur for many years, but the time that the events took place still continue to pique historians' interests to this day. But this memoir, which is one of many I anticipate still exist, belonged to a man who lived during the Flameseeker Prophecies of Tyria, and more importantly, took part in them._

_Now, we're all aware of Devona's band of heroes and their involvement in the Prophecies, but according to this record, there was a second group of heroes around as well! The actual journal itself was written by a mesmer named Pyrus. Pyrus The Faceless. I'm not aware where this title is actually derived, as I'm still piecing together crucial parts of his memoir in order to further understand this man's life. But, seeing how imperative this information is to the Academy, I'll write down what I know now and figure the rest out later._

_The earliest entries in the memoir seem to actually recount events that take place before The Searing of Ascalon, a time period we have barely any record of at all, as most records were destroyed during the actual event. I'm certain that this discovery will give us much needed insight into the lives of the Ascalonians, if not _Tyrians_ of ages past._


	2. Ignorance

**Chapter 1: Ignorance**

June 13th, 1070 AE. I'd had a nightmare the previous night.

There were screams of countless people, all fleeing a terrible darkness looming over them. They couldn't escape it. There were screams, and then there were roars, and all the people were engulfed in the darkness. It got them. The landscape was engulfed in fire. A terrible fire that devoured everything in the darkness. The fire was hungry. It took them all. There were more screams of fear. Ferocious roars, and an outcry of terror. Fear...

Terrible, terrible fear.

I woke up in a nasty fit. I'd hated nightmares; they always rattled me. Ever since I was small, I'd had a hard time differentiating thoughts from reality. This was suitable, however, for someone in my profession: a mesmer, where there is no line between the two, and you can take neither for granted. Of course, at this point, I was only just becoming a mesmer. I was nineteen at the time, and my training was to begin today, but my nightmare had woken me up ahead of schedule–it was still dark out, the striders hadn't even begun their morning squawking. Falling back to sleep, however, would land me in that same dark dream...

I grabbed a book and opened it. It was my newest reading endeavor: _Hexes and Illusions, Volume I_. This book was a crucial part of my training, and I decided to be ahead of the game when my training began.

It was impossible to concentrate inside my room, scattered with papers and books. There was no way to focus in that room, in that _house_ no less.I snuck out of the house, my parents not hearing a sound, and crept over to the forest neighboring my quaint Ashford house. I sat beneath a tree and continued reading. It was difficult to read in the dark, especially in the shade of the tree, where the moonlight couldn't penetrate the darkness. I read the texts of the book, but they were awkwardly phrased and didn't make much sense.

_Spectre. Purple. Illusion. Agony._ Key words in the passage. I didn't understand the connection, but "agony" definitely didn't sound like something a mesmer of my meager stature was ready to deal with yet. I turned the page onto something new and continued to read. I couldn't focus on that, however, running the previous words over and over through my head. I needed to know what the agony meant. I needed to know what this "purple illusion" was. I needed to harness its power.

There was a skale asleep in the river–a river skale, no threat at all. I saw the incantation and chanted it, pointing my makeshift cane at the skale. A purple aura surrounded him, and the skale burst out of slumber and began writhing in pain. Agony. I could tell he was weakening. Within seconds he put up less and less of a fight until he eventually just collapsed. Dead. I was amazed, that spectre that I released, the manifestation of the energy I pooled into my cane, ended a life. I had an adrenaline rush, as most do when they cast their first spell. I felt I was the king of the world, that I was a natural, that I was the best mesmer alive. I was hungry for more spells, so I sat back down and devoured the texts. About half an hour later, the sun began to rise. I began to pack the book up and head back to my house to prepare for training. As soon as I closed the book, however, I heard grunts and howls coming from further down the path. I hid behind a tree and saw two grawls coming down the path towards Ashford.

"Pukpuk hungry in morning. Pukpuk want steal chicken!" shouted one.

"Pukpuk need stay quiet so Uggugg find chicken to eat. If mean people in village hear Pukpuk, they come with swords and chop Pukpuk in pieces," replied the other.

"Pukpuk sorry..." Pukpuk finished. Their conversation skills were lacking.

I wondered what chickens they were considering stealing. The only chickens in Ashford were Pitney's, and they were the ones he was about to enter in the fair. I couldn't let the grawl steal them, they were Pitney's prides and joys. Then I remembered the damage I'd done to the skale... I muttered the same incantation, and the one named Pukpuk was surrounded by the purple aura, just like the skale. But the grawl wasn't writhing in agony. He merely groaned and fell down to the ground, but composed himself and looked around fiercely.

"Why you fall down, fool?" Uggugg asked Pukpuk.

"Pukpuk no know. Pukpuk's head hurt very bad, and Pukpuk could no stand." Pukpuk replied.

"Pukpuk have headache?"

"No! Somebody play with Pukpuk's mind! Somebody make Pukpuk hurt, and when somebody make Pukpuk hurt, Pukpuk make somebody hurt!" Pukpuk howled. I trembled. Two grawl with hammers against one young mesmer was a fight whose outcome I didn't want to find out.

I crept out from behind the tree and tried to make my way silently back to my house. However, I didn't have the darkness on my side anymore, so I was easily spotted by the keen eyes of the grawl. Pukpuk took notice first and pointed at me.

"Boy from behind tree! That who must make Pukpuk's head hurt!" he shouted. He ran towards me and grabbed me by the collar. He hoisted me up so we were eye level and sniffed me. I pleaded for mercy.

"Please don't hurt me, I miscast it on you, I apologize!" I begged.

"What you say? What is 'apologize'?" Pukpuk asked me.

"You mean... you don't know?" I replied, chuckling a little. These ape-men were dumber than I'd thought.

But Pukpuk didn't see anything funny about it. "Why you laugh at Pukpuk!? You think Pukpuk stupid for not knowing big word!?" Pukpuk growled in my face. His breath smelled horrible, but I knew better than to tell him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pukpuk. It won't happen again, I know my place. I'm very small, after all, and you're very big, and you..." I tried to finish, but Pukpuk tightened his grip on me.

"You say Pukpuk big and fat!?" he yelled in an outrage. I tried to say that it wasn't what I meant, but he wouldn't listen. "You dare call Pukpuk stupid, and then you call Pukpuk fat!? Pukpuk think that boy is stupid one!" he screamed in a frenzy. He threw me down on the ground and yelled for his partner. "Uggugg! Get your hammer! Help me crush boy's bones!" Uggugg obliged, picked up his hammer, and joined Pukpuk. They swung at me, but luckily, I was able to dodge them. In the midst of the fighting, I dodged one hammer, but backed up into another as it connected with my back. I was flung into the ground, a horrible pain coursing through my nerves. I rolled onto my back and attempted to get up, but one of them pinned me down. It was Uggugg, letting Pukpuk get ready for a prime swing right into my head. I figured this was the end, and words wouldn't be able to get me out of a situation concerning two creatures who barely understood them anyway. I simply looked up. Pukpuk looked down at me and howled with delight. "Boy will soon know place and will never call Pukpuk mean names again!" He gripped the hammer tightly. But just as he was about to rain the hammer down on my head, a blaze of something purple overtook him. It almost looked like purple lightning. The purple lightning surged all about him, and spread to affect Uggugg as well. Uggugg released his hold on me and they both began writhing in pain. After a few seconds, the purple lightning exploded and the pair flew back onto the ground. Uggugg was unconscious, and Pukpuk yelped, got up, and fled in fear. There was no honor among grawl, apparently.

I got up, dusted myself off, and thanked Lyssa for my safety. I suddenly heard a voice behind me.

"Pyrus, getting yourself into trouble on your first day of training isn't the wisest choice you could make," said a soft voice behind me. I turned around and saw who it was.

"Lady Althea! I apologize for my impudence!" I replied to her, bowing my head in shame.

"You're not ready to take on such creatures as the grawl yet. You're barely ready to take on skales," Lady Althea retorted. I kept silent, as I knew she was right. Lady Althea was the smartest woman I knew, as well as the most beautiful. A woman fit for a king, or more notably, a prince, as she was Prince Rurik's fiancee. "That spell you just witnessed was called 'Energy Surge', and is a spell you'll not be able to cast for sometime as it is very advanced. It's considered 'elite' as far as spells go, and you can barely handle weak spells this early in your training. But that's _why_ I'm training you."

"But I can handle spells, Lady Althea! Just tonight, I taught myself how to conjure a spectre to harm an enemy!" I pleaded, hoping to make her think I wasn't as much as an idiot as I'd portrayed myself to be.

"You learned 'Conjure Phantasm' in one night? And taught it to yourself?" she asked me, puzzled. "That's... remarkable, Pyrus. Most students can't even read the texts of the spell books, let alone teach themselves. Perhaps there's hope in you yet," she added with a smile.

"Thank you, milady," I replied, blushing.

She walked up to me and handed me a green masquerade mask. I stared at it blankly, not knowing what to do with it.

"Put it on," she told me. I did so. She smiled at me. "Let's begin."


	3. Price of Pride

**Chapter 2: Price of Pride**

September 19th, 1070 AE.

I'd woken up early that day, but not because of any nightmare. I barely had time to sleep, let alone dream. Lady Althea trained me passionately, but her passion for teaching resulted in my days enveloped in work.

Tiresome as it was, I was grateful for all the effort she put into her classes, as well as the noticeable improvements in my mesmer abilities. My mind was bursting with knowledge acquired from Lady Althea: Spell cancels, combat hexes, movement hexes, enchantment spells, energy drains, energy transfers, spell chaining, everything.

I met her that morning at the usual place: the actor's theatre outside of the city.

"There will be no lesson today, Pyrus," she told me. "I have to go to a council meeting in Ascalon City concerning the recent string of Charr invasions. I expect you to review what I've taught you; we'll have a skills assessment in our next meeting."

"Milady, of what importance are these Charr? Aren't they trapped behind the Great Northern Wall?" I questioned.

"They're normally no trouble and easily apprehended; however, the three Tyrian kingdoms, Ascalon, Orr, and Kryta, are far more concerned with the Guild Wars than the Charr. However, the Charr have been growing stronger recently, and their increasing potency of magic worries me."

"Is there anything I can do to help? Surely I could kill some Charr," I replied. "After all, I've been well taught."

"No!" she yelled fiercely. "You mustn't go near those Charr! You're not experienced enough yet!" I was frightened by this outburst; I'd never seen Lady Althea with such intensity. She immediately composed herself and continued. "Now, study your spells. We'll continue with your training tomorrow." She turned around and headed for Ascalon City. Lady Althea's warnings still rang in my ears, but they weren't doing anything to appease my curiosity.

I'd never seen a Charr before, not even in books. In Ascalon nobody spoke of them; I wasn't sure if that was out of disgust or fear. In any case, I just needed to see one, just a glimpse of a Charr, then perhaps I'd work on my spells. I pondered further and then had an idea. What better way to kill two moas with one stone than to fight a Charr? I'd be practicing spells as well as seeing a Charr with my own eyes. I walked toward The Great Northern Wall and spoke to the guard.

"Halt! No one is allowed within these gates without permission!" the guard bellowed.

"My good sir, I have permission from Lady Althea herself," I replied. Hopefully this lie wouldn't get back to Lady Althea. The guard quickly apologized and signaled to the guard to open the gate. I closed my eyes, reached into my pocket, and took out my mask. I put the mask on and walked through.

On the other side of the wall, I looked around. The lush green landscapes of Ascalon were covered in ruins and blood. I walked further and saw the corpse of a warrior lying up against a wall, as if he'd been thrown and simply didn't get up. Perhaps these Charr really were above my technique.

I meandered for a bit longer around the ruins when the moment of reckoning came: I saw one. It was a gruesome hairy giant of a creature with a scarred face and clad heavily in armor. It wielded a giant bloodstained axe, most likely thirsty for some fresh mesmer blood like my own. I was admittedly frightened. Terrified, really, but I couldn't turn back now, my pride had already pushed me into Charr territory.

The Charr was a warrior, so I figured the best way to go about this fight was to hinder its attacks. I muttered the incantation for Empathy, followed by the incantation for Conjure Phantasm. The Charr's senses were sharp, however, and he heard my incantatory noise. He snarled and looked right in my direction—there was no hiding from this beast.

He howled and ran toward me, hitting my chest with the blunt end of his axe. Never had I felt such a force exerted on me. I was flung through the air as though I was nothing and landed on the ground, my attire now covered in dirt. I struggled to get up; the blow had left me out of breath. The Charr kicked me over so that I was lying on my back. He looked at me savagely with the most gnarled face I'd ever seen.

"You have no business here, human!" he yelled.

"I'm sorry, I was frightened and acted out of self-defense! I'll leave, I promise!" I stammered.

"You humans are incorrigible. This is not exclusively your land, and yet you keep us behind these walls because we do not believe in your gods."

"What? The Gods? Then what _do_ you believe in?"

"The Titans," he replied gruffly. I'd read about the Titans, but mostly in ancient mythology. Did these creatures believe in mythical creatures, or were they merely unaware that such a thing could never exist?

"But the Titans are only in myth, they're not actually real," I said aloud, which a second later I realized was a bad move. Once again my mouth was about to get me into great trouble. Damn.

"Infidel!" the Charr roared angrily. "Our Titans will once again rise and you human fools won't be able to do anything to stop it! Our time is almost nigh!" He picked me up by my collar and flung me into a wall. I slumped to the ground, pain coursing through my body. I slowed the Charr rampage down slightly with Imagined Burden, giving myself some time to think, but the hex wore off prematurely. The Charr lunged at me with his axe. The blade connected with me and I felt a sharp pain in my arm. I retained mobility, but I was surely bleeding. This onslaught was futile; I couldn't win.

"My lords, the Titans, let it be known that I, Brash Bloodpyre, have slain the non-believer!" the Charr roared.

I backed up against a wall and watched as the Charr ran toward me. This was it. I closed my eyes, only to hear the painful cry of a Charr. I opened my eyes slowly to the sight of a Charr lying face down on the ground, an arrow jetting out of the back of his head. I stared at the body and thanked Lyssa aloud for her safety when I suddenly heard a voice.

"You needn't thank a god for a mortal's actions," the voice said—a low, emotionless voice coming from somewhere in the ruins. I looked around and saw a figure crouched on a hill, bow in hand. The majority of his face was covered in a mask.

"Then may I thank you instead?" I asked him.

"No. Get out of here," he replied coldly, "this is no place for novices."

"May I at least ask your name?"

"Naveed Zenith. Oh, and here," he responded, tossing me a vial of some liquid. "It's a balm, troll unguent. It'll help that wound." I caught the vial, looked at it for a second, and when I glanced back, the ranger had disappeared.

"Naveed…" I repeated. "Thank you." I clutched my arm and left the wall. I stumbled back to my home, applied the unguent to my arm, and went to sleep.

Meanwhile, behind the false sanctity of the Great Northern Wall, the Charr had just finished a new burning effigy of a Titan. A congregation of Charr surrounded it, and a larger Charr clad in robes stepped up.

"We dedicate this fire to you, my lords, and all the fires yet to come."


	4. Chaos Storm

December 4th, 1070 AE.

It had been several months since my journey behind the wall, and all that was left was a scar on my arm. And wounded pride.

Luckily, my progress in mesmer training was increasing rapidly. I devoured texts, ravenous for the knowledge that was within them. I dueled frequently with trainees of colleagues of Lady Althea's. Elementalists were my favorite. There's something fulfilling about seeing an opponent put so much effort into flinging fire at you, and in the time it takes for someone to snap their fingers, you can cancel the spell, often at your opponent's expense. Today I got that pleasure.

Aziure, an elementalist friend of Lady Althea, had challenged Althea to a contest. Aziure had a student as well, who she claimed was as talented in the elemental arts as I was in my own field. Althea accepted. She approached me that day, but she didn't seem herself. She didn't greet me today with her usual cheerfully graceful demeanor, but with a sullen and anxious tone of voice.

"Pyrus," she started quietly, "your duel today, between you and Aziure's student?"

"Yes, milady?" I asked.

"Win," she continued. "Win for me." Before I could say anything, she had taken her seat in the theater, today's arena. I brushed the hair out of my face before I put my mask on. The green of the mask already hindered my vision, I shouldn't mess it up further with streaks of brown.

"Althea, darling!" a voice rang, a female's. Lady Althea and I both looked up at the top of a nearby hill. A young woman about Lady Althea's age owned the voice, and although they were of the same age, they were noticeably different. Lady Althea was a graceful woman who always walked with poise, kept her hair very properly in a bun, and always wore very elegant dresses or blouses with skirts. She was truly a princess of her time. Aziure, on the other hand, wore a black tunic with streaks of red to match her bright red hair. She carried herself not with poise, but seemed to move sporadically, much like fire. Althea greeted her with a subtle wave. All this behavior was unnatural for Althea. Aziure ran down to greet her, but I didn't see her student anywhere.

"Althea, how have you been?" she asked cheerfully, as though she had stolen the cheer from Althea, who looked up for a moment, and replied quietly.

"Let us not feign friendship. Let us just fight," Althea replied, but quickly spoke again, "Let our _students_ fight." Aziure didn't look shocked, this must've been a game they played at when they saw each other, a game of folly. Aziure must have been pleased, she'd won this round of their facade. Althea looked up at the sorceress. "Well, where is he? I know you didn't come here just for the pleasure of my company," Lady Althea continued. Aziure laughed softly.

"Aziure, I've arrived!" a voice shouted. I soon learned that the voice belonged to a boy around my age, seventeen or so, who looked as if in all his years lived, he'd never been touched by the sun. He was pale of skin, and grimly dark of hair and armor. His jet black hair and armor accentuated the fact even more that he was little more than a ghost. He walked down the hill slowly and deliberately; his demeanor didn't seem to fit his form. "I lust for battle, we shant tarry with words," he told the group, almost like a command. Everyone obliged, of course. We went to stage right, while they went to stage left to set up. Althea, still uncommonly morose, looked to me. She wanted to say something to me, I could tell, but either the words were stuck, or she simply didn't know what to say. In any case, I padded her shoulder gently.

"I'll win," I told her. She looked away and went to her seat. When Aziure did the same, my opponent armed his staff. "So what is it, sir? Air? Earth?"

"Fire," he replied. "Which is a shame. You mesmers dress so nicely, it's always a tragedy to see your silks turn to ashes."

"My goal today is to never let your fire leave your fingers," I said, to which he replied with only a smirk. He raised up his hand and snapped, and suddenly fire filled his palm. "Flare!" he shouted, hurling the ball of flame toward me. I jumped quickly to the right, and the fire crashed into one of the benches behind me.

"Looks like you failed," he said with a smirk. "What shall we play with next? A fireball? A fire storm? No answer? I'll just surprise you then," he continued as a small spark grew in his hand.

"Backfire," I muttered, and a small trace of purple flew unseen into the growing fire.

"Fireball!" he shouted, but just as he was about to throw it, it burst into a purple flame and exploded prematurely, the purple fire caught on his armor and he shrieked in pain, clutching his head in agony.

"You're lucky. The purple fire only attacks your mind, not your flesh," I told him.

"No! You're lucky I made such a novice mistake, but there's no holding back now! Aura of Restoration!" he yelled fiercely as a golden aura appeared around him. The fire wasn't just in his hands, but in his eyes as well. But I could be just as determined as a praise-hungry elementalist.

"Shatter Enchantment!" I shouted, and the aura shattered into purple shards around him, and again he screamed. He fell to one knee for a moment, so I struck. "Conjure Phantasm!"

The purple ghost moaned as it faded into appearance and darted toward my foe. He now glowed with a purple aura that I bestowed on him and continued to scream in pain. He slowly brought himself down to the ground, clutching his body to help soothe the pain. It seemed he was finished. I walked up to him. "Surrender. I don't wish to cause you more pain."

"Immolate!" he screamed painfully.

"Immolate?" I questioned. "What does that mean?" Unfortunately the answer came too soon. Before I knew it, my vest caught on fire, but from no source. The fire was spreading rapidly, and the heat was terrible. I ripped my vest off and fell to the ground, trying to suffocate the fire. By the time it was out, my opponent was finally able to raise himself off the ground, using his staff for support.

"Only an amateur wouldn't prepare himself for retaliation," he winced, as though each word were a knife through his body.

"Fine! Then we shall end this now! Give up!" I said, regaining my footing, my shirt half-charred.

"You're right. The end of this fight is nigh," he retorted, grasping his staff with both hands. It began to glow vibrantly red. "Meteor Shower!" The sky opened up above me, as though it were about to engulf me within flames. But a meteor shower was not something to be contemplating, but rather something to be dodging. The staff reddened further, and the rift in the sky grew, as did my worries. But then I had an idea.

"A spell that takes this long to cast must be powerful."

"Yes..." he grunted.

"But, as we know, only an amateur wouldn't prepare himself for retaliation," I laughed. "Power Spike." And with that, his staff lost its red hue and flared with purple lightning. My foe howled and fell to the ground, defeated. Luckily, the sky closed up as well.

"You win," he relented. But I knew that the true victory was actually getting him to say those words. "Pyrus, you have bested me, Demitri Albatross of Ascalon." I extended my hand to him and helped him up. He was surely hurt, and I can't imagine the headache he must have gotten from my mind tricks.

"Bravo, Pyrus!" Althea was applauding loudly behind me, a wide smile went across her face. This time it was Aziure with the frown. I turned to her and bowed, sharing a laugh with her.

I jumped off the stage and went to Althea so that we could pack up and continue to train, when suddenly the ground began to shake and a crystal engulfed in blue flame crashed into the theater. We both looked up and saw a rift in the sky, much like the one Demitri earlier created. My anger flared. There is nothing worse than guerrilla attack. "Demitri! Our battle is done!" I turned around and shouted, only to see Demitri and Althea staring worriedly at the sky as well.

"It... It's not me," Demitri stammered quietly.

"Boys. Get inside Ascalon City. Behind walls. Anywhere, just not here!" Althea shouted frantically. "Aziure, come with me and warn the others." With that, both of our instructors ran off. Demitri and I shared a glance and ran towards the city walls. I glanced back behind me and saw crystals and blue fire falling from the sky. Bigger crystals and more fire. By the time we reached the city, the Ascalonian countryside was engulfed.

_I'm deeply sorry for the inconvenience, but the succession of entries lapses approximately two years from this last entry. Until I can find alternate sources for what may have happened in that time, I suppose I'll have to just continue with the most recent entry... but let me assure you, a lot has changed._

August 14th, 1072 AE.

"Energy burn!" I shouted. The gargoyle flashed purple before falling to the ground hissing. I looked upon my prey. A limp gargoyle. He was practice. "How are you two doing?" I called out to my comrades.

"Wonderfully," a voice replied. I turned around only to see my ghastly friend kicking a burning corpse. "These gargoyles know nothing of battle. Only an amateur wouldn't prepare himself for retaliation," he added with a laugh. Some people never change, I suppose.

"Demitri's magic may be pretty, but I've killed three fold of the gargoyles he has!" another voice boomed. I looked over to him next, a tower of a man who looked as though he'd been exercising ever since he escaped from the womb. He was clad in chain mail and a horned helmet, and was currently dislodging a gargoyle head from his bloodied sword.

"Well, Brother Firebrand, it would seem you've done a nice amount of damage," I replied. "It seems we all have, really," I said, turning around in all directions, only to see dead gargoyles decorating the wasteland that was the new Ascalon. Ever since the Searing, Ascalon had changed. The once lush green landscapes were now inhabited by rocks and burnt earth. We had the Charr to thank for that.

"Well, this is fun and all, Pyrus, but do you think we're ready for the real deal yet?" Demitri asked, impatient as always.

"I think it's about time we gave 'em our feelings about what they did to our Ascalon!" Firebrand roared. "So, whaddaya say? Is it time to get our feet wet?"

I scanned the field of corpses, and looked over them with a smile. "Tomorrow, we go past the wall."


End file.
